


Passing the Buck

by frumious_bandersnatch



Series: Supernatural Codas and Fix-Its [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Death!Dean, Gen, Tags to be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29634831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumious_bandersnatch/pseuds/frumious_bandersnatch
Summary: Dean wouldn’t be happy without work to do, even after... everything. An old friend obliges him.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Crowley, Dean Winchester & Death, Dean Winchester/Castiel, mentioned Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy - Relationship
Series: Supernatural Codas and Fix-Its [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178048
Comments: 17
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this absolutely amazing art! [O, Death by baby—spinach on tumblr](https://baby%E2%80%94spinach.tumblr.com/post/642560676840259584)

It wasn’t bad, so far as pain went. So far as dying went. Dull and throbbing and sharp and right there all at once.

But it sure as Hell beat hellhounds, any day. And Sam was there. Sammy was right there, holding his hands, telling him it was okay. Okay to let go.

He’d wanted to retire. He’d wanted to ask Jack about Cas, he’d wanted a little dog and a house in the boonies. But this was okay, too. A hunt. Figures, right?

He closed his eyes, and leaned his head forwards, and his next breath came as a shudder- and then didn’t come at all.

It was dark. Quiet, not like before, no standing around and waiting for a reaper. Dark and calm and painless and he let out a relieved sort of noise, blinking his eyes open and…

“Hello, Dean.”

He blinked. Took a step back, stared, brow knit. “...You’re dead.”

“You can’t kill a concept.” And then the other man- the being rose, raised his hands, no ring. “Not dead. Simply retired. It’s good to see you, again.”

“No- come on, no. No. I don’t- I just want something easy, for once, I want heaven, just- beam me up, man.” Dean shook his head, scoffing. He took another step back. Where were they?

Death- could Dean call him Death if he was apparently retired?

“You may call me Azrael, if you wish. But Death is just fine. And what gives you the impression that this is a… ‘big thing’? Hm?” Death cocked his head to the side.

“You’ve given me the impression that you’re not exactly the kinda guy to see people along. Especially now that you… what do you even do?” Dean slumped, relaxing just a hair as he scrubbed his hands over his face.

“I watch, I experience, I… live, a little, if I feel daring enough.” The way Death was just barely smiling made Dean think that was supposed to be a joke.

The thing about Death- the being, the concept, not the reaper who filled his shoes later, this specific version- the thing that struck Dean was how old he was. Not just in his choice of vessel, or body, or whatever. The age in his eyes, in his words, in the way he talked about the universe and earth and humans. The way that Dean’s life, that any other human life, was a blip on the radar. Was nothing. 

“So it really is a privilege to be able to speak to you, now. To see you, now, Dean. I always enjoyed you.” Death stood, bearing his weight on his cane and looking up at Dean. “You and your brother and that little angel of yours. I suppose I would have liked to have known the nephilim a little better- but seeing as it is altogether likely he’ll be coming to me for advice, that will be amended soon enough.” He smiled.

Dean didn’t quite know if he liked that; Death smiling, but he had to consciously remind himself that this… was no longer acting as Death. Was just a moderately invested being.

“Why? I mean- why bother snatching me up before I could pass on? That’s what this is, right? I’m assuming Jack would let you in to… Heaven,” Because he severely hoped that was where he was going, even if there was always a small amount of worry. Not good enough, too tainted, too wrong, already been to Hell…

“If that is where you’d want to end up, I’m sure he would be more than happy to allow visitation.” Death confirmed. “But- well, Dean, to put it quite bluntly, would you want to go to Heaven?”

Dean blinked. “What kinda question is that? Of course I do.”

“Would you be happy?”

“That’s…. kinda the point, isn’t it?” Dean swallowed. He remembered Heaven. Memories. Life already lived, on a Rolodex, forever. 

“Of course it is. It’s even been made that there’s a degree of crossover between personal Heavens, that they have been made interconnected, that there's a certain degree of free will, involved.” Death let that hang in the air for a few moments.

Dean took it all in. The implication. Souls- people loved and lost and mourned, all able to see eachother, ll able to talk and live and breathe together. Bobby, Charlie, Ellen and Jo, Ash, every fucking one they lost. If they’d made it. 

He’d be happy to bet Jack would make exceptions. 

He could have that. He could be happy. He could be happy, but-

“Would it be fulfilling, for you, Dean?”

And Dean was still silent. And Death was right, a little. Even if he retired, he’d wanted to work. To… to fix cars, or go to school for real, or do something with his hands. “Would there be fulfillment? I don’t know. How would you know? What’s- the point of this?”

There was a table between them, suddenly. Stark in the well-lit blackness. A ring. White crystal polished to a shine, silver band.

Dean swallowed and his throat clicked audibly. “We tried this before. Didn’t work out.”

“I think it could be different.”

Dean stared down at the piece of jewelry. The job, the power, the position, the title. Death. “Why me?”

“I like you. And I don’t know that I like the… job just going to the next available reaper.” Death crossed over, stood right beside Dean, and the man didn’t shy away from the contact.

“What if I screw up?”

“You will. And you will fix it, because you can, because it won’t just be a one time deal. It will be you.” Death cocked his head to the side. “You can watch, or interact, or do whatever you see fit. The reapers take care of most of it, it’s just the… high profile cases. The disasters. Should you like to go to Heaven- visit, talk… well. The door was always open to me.”

Dean shook his head. “What if I wanna stop?”

“Then you find a successor, and you stop. Stay on earth and in between like myself, or… if you think you would be happy,” He raised his gaze up skyward. “Wherever you like.”

“I wouldn’t be human.”

“Not with the ring.”

Dean frowned. “And I can stop? Any time?”

Not a no. Never a no, he was more than considering it. It wasn’t a deal. It wasn’t to stop anything, it, it… it was a job. Steady work. Easing pain and bringing comfort was what it was. Guiding people right on out, not pausing to check or glance just where they ended up…

Not slaughter. Just the few steps into the great beyond, and on to the next soul.

“Yes. And, as I do, you could cross over from the veil, at your leisure…”

_ Sam. _ Dean couldn’t do that to him. Go, ‘I’m alive,  _ but _ …’ 

He could watch, though. Guide from afar, make sure he got his retirement and his wedding and his life, with Eileen (hopefully her) and…

“Sign me up.”

—

The ring, the scythe, the car (not his Baby, but the care Death put into it, the fact Death trusted him with it- with her, well, it was almost as good), the clothes- changing out of the bloodstained flannel and jeans had been nice.

Death had offered him something of the same caliber.

“Nah,” He’d said. “Classy job, classy clothes, I get it. I’ll figure it out, if…” They walked.

Death’s library. Apparently, he had private quarters, too, and a wardrobe. Dean picked out something nice, not too stuffy (you look great and all, man, but I’m not going for the, uh, mortician chic here)- slacks, a dress shirt, all in black. A white vest and a grey tie, made it look real nice, all perfectly fitted. Matched the ring, matched the scythe. 

Dean wouldn’t hide how pleased he was with that.

And it was a, “This, the library, is all yours. I’ll be around.”

And he was alone. Standing there, scythe in one hand, held loosely- comfortable and familiar and right.

It was all his. And he had a job to do.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean fills his role quite nicely. He likes the work.

He liked to go to nursing homes. 

Not exactly under his purview- massive death and destruction; fires, tornadoes, earthquakes, floods,

But still places of death. Still work. There were often reapers, there. Most kept their distance. Some with disdain, some with appreciation. Some talked. Dean liked that, sometimes. Shooting the shit with something else that really got it. Even though it was what they were made for, it… took a toll, too. Even though it was their job since inception.

Mostly, though, he liked the people. The humans. He liked being able to be the last one they talked to, invisible to everyone else but the nearly deceased.

Some of them hadn’t talked to their families in too long. Had either lost everyone, or ran out of close family members who cared.

Dean was happy to prolong their life enough that they finished getting their stories out. So he knew the whole thing, not just what was written in the library. Name, age, date, cause. Causes. Dates. Sheafs of possible ends and none of the story.

And then he’d help them up. Didn’t really need the scythe, though it made things easier.

Intangible hands on the tangible, pulling out the intangible and guiding it away. Some went to Heaven. Some went to Hell. Dean learned that the closure was in the fact that they’d moved on, and not in where they went.

He bent the rules. He was Death. The rules bent for him.

Not in a big way. Everyone who was slated to pass, still passed. But if he gave them one more day, made sure they could properly say goodbye- that wasn’t upsetting the world’s balance much.

He got why the old Death liked fast food so much. Not that he hadn’t already, but,

It was nice to have something easy to indulge in after everything. Pop in, get some fried mozzarella sticks and a milkshake, pop right back out because there’s an outbreak in some little village and that’s his job.

The biggest constant of life is death. Dean had his free time, but he was busy. He liked it that way.

He managed to make the most of it. Talked to the old Death, shared a meal, spoke of the trials and tribulations of the job and the first time he hadn’t been able to get someone to cross. Knowing what would happen to them and not being able to force it, it hurt.

Sometimes stepped on down to Hell. Avoided any place he’d been in his forty years down there, straight to the throneroom, straight to Rowena. Insufferable as she was in life- still insufferable, but in a good way. Took tea and gave her someone besides demons (drab little things, I’ve no idea how Fergus put up with the lot for so long, Dean) to talk to. 

Crowley was back too, of course. Thanks to Jack. First thing Dean did was give the bastard a hug, broke it within a second- but he’d needed to get it out of the way. Best way he could say ‘thank you’. And they talked, too. Practically drinking buddies, though not at quite the same level as when Dean had been…

They enjoyed eachother’s company and that was all.

And Sam…

Dean didn’t talk to Sam. That hurt. But he would, when the time came. And he helped. Made sure he carried on, made sure that, when he was grieving, he was there. His presence was there.

That when he and Eileen really buckled down there wasn’t any goddamn threat in the area. No demons, no ghouls, no monsters.

The safest little town in… anywhere.

He’d stood in the delivery room and, “You bastard, don’t name him after me,” And he was shaking his head and laughing and so honored and  _ fuck _ , Sammy had a baby boy. What the hell.

He was called. Being summoned felt… he didn’t like it. 

But it was green grass and a clear sky and-

“Jack?”

And the scythe had fallen to the ground with a soft thump because there the kid was, arms ratcheted around Dean’s middle like he’d never go and Dean was hugging him right back. 

“Hey, kid. Hey. I missed you.” He smiled, pulled back a little and cocked his head to the side, 

And Jack was beaming. “I missed you too, Dean. It’s good to see you. This is-“

“Heaven, I know.” He tapped his foot on the ground. “Feels different. I’m sorry I didn’t… he said I could have, I was just- getting into the swing of things, you know?”

“I know.”

Right. The kid was God. He kinda knew everything, huh?

“I understand.” Jack furthered. “But- would you like to stay?” He saw Dean’s shoulders drop, and he shook his head. “Not permanently. I won’t make you do that. Just… a day, or two? See everyone? They… they miss you, too.”

Dean paused, bending down to pick up the scythe- it vanished in his hands, back to the little pocket dimension he’d shove the things he needed (scythe, car, the little scythe, half finished pb&j). “I bet they do.” He paused, looked down as if to take in the state of the world- which he could do, and that… that was wild, but he’d gotten used to seeing and knowing so much after a while. 

It would be alright without him for a few days. “So sure. Why not. Show me around, let me see what you’ve done with the place.”

He held Jack’s hand as he was guided from the field, down to a road. All connected.

The old Death had said that one day, he’d reap God. Chuck.

Dean wondered if he’d ever have to do that with Jack. He hoped not.

“So. Jack. Crowley. Did you… bring anyone else back?” Dean asked, almost hopefully, didn’t miss how Jack grinned.

“Yeah. The empty- is weakened. A lot. Billie is gone. It’s like they- cancelled eachother out. So if I want to… bring someone back, it’s not hard to reach in. So. Yes.” He nodded, looked up at Dean. “Castiel is… if you’d want to see him? I know-“

“Yes.” Dean said quickly, swallowing. “I’d want to see him.”

Jack sobered for a moment before he nodded. “Then we will. There’s also Balthazar, Gabriel… many angels that have died that can help.”

Dean nodded. “Gabriel… huh. How’s that going?” He chuckled.

“...well enough. I’m considering-“

“The other three?” Dean clicked his tongue. “Kid… it’s your universe. You know what you’re doing, just be careful about it, okay?”

Jack looked somewhat taken aback. Had expected an immediate refusal, a stark no, for Dean to make it easy and strike down the decision for him. “You’ve changed.” He said, not upset. Curious.

Dean blinked, before nodding. “Yeah. Comes with the job, I think.”

They walked for a while more. Dean relaxed, talked easily with Jack, basked in his presence because- he’d thought he’d never see the kid again. Really. That even if he had stopped in to Heaven, it would just be for family. ...Jack was family.

The road drifted off, they walked down to a pier on a lake. It was beautiful, clear as crystal- and there were people on the other side. What looked like a few- families, playing in the water, someone grilling.

Dean recognized one or two of their souls. He smiled serenely, and his eyes drifted down to the dock, a familiar silhouette and a familiar trench coat. He stiffened, stilled, stared for a few moments until Jack nudged his side.

He fiddled with his ring for a few moments, spinning it around his finger, thumbing at the smooth white stone.

And then he walked. And lowered himself to sit down. 

“Heya, Cas.”

“Dean. You’re…” Castiel shifted, looked up. He looked… happy. Unburdened, free. No whetstone of responsibility and free will and a narrative around his neck.

Dean’s arms were around his middle. What was it with him and spontaneous hugs to old friends? He didn’t used to be so touchy-feely.

Maybe it was better this way. Being able to touch and to hold and to love.

“You son of a bitch,” He whispered, suddenly choked up. Of course he was. “Never gave me a chance, Cas, never gave me a chance to say it back.”

Castiel had tensed. Had imagined that perhaps he’d been right- that love was something he’d never have doubled back again on him.

He felt it now, though. Practically vibrating through Dean, shining in his soul bonded with death. He buried his face in the former man’s chest and clutched at him just as tightly. 

Dean didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Until Heaven’s day turned into night, and there were bonfires on the opposite shore, and the stars shone brighter than anything. New constellations. New galaxies. Dean wondered if they were a projection of if you’d actually be able to go up there.

He could see Cas. Really see him. He almost hadn’t noticed, because he could really see just about everything- souls, life force, even the all encompassing brightness and wings that was Jack, now.

He brought his head back, in awe, looked up at the… tall as the Chrysler building. Guy hadn’t been lying.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I know.”

They swam. Stripped all the way down and got into the water and swam together, let themselves float. 

Talked about life, and death, and work. Castiel in Heaven, aiding Jack, Dean on Earth…

Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown. That bears the ring and all that comes with it.

“But…” Dean was staring up at the stars, floating on his back. “I like it. And if I could do that, and still come up here, see you… man. I still haven’t gone, seen anyone else.”

“You will. And you can.” Castiel smiled. “We can do whatever we want.”

“No story.” Dean confirmed. “I’d like that.”

He reached through the water, took Cas’ hand in his own.

God, he was beautiful. Maybe in a century, maybe two, he’d be happy to stay up here. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I couldn’t help it with the Destiel bit, I mean- I gotta. Let me know what you think!


End file.
